


If He charges His Angels with error

by TrashLogic



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, and an asshole, and totally kidding herself, angel sisters, kayle is so arrogant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashLogic/pseuds/TrashLogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when separated a by a continent, Kayle cannot stop thinking of her sister</p>
            </blockquote>





	If He charges His Angels with error

**Author's Note:**

> more trash

Kayle finished combing her wet hair quickly, standing so as to look at the small, solitary mirror in the whole of her spacious quarters no longer than absolutely necessary. Vanity was hardly a thing to be cultivated anyway, she had always reasoned, and she could no longer recall a day where she had desired to stare back at her unhelmed face.

Comb now set aside, she gently pressed the bath towel across her bared skin and then along her wings one last time before discarding it. A sigh left her. She would have to speak with the human prince--Jarvan--about having his ranger woman treat her wings again.

Though she tried to ignore it, the thought made her muscles clench with preemptive anxiety.

It was not to say as though the ranger was crude or ignorant in her periodic handling of Kayle’s wings; no, if anything, Kayle had been surprised the first time her fingers had gently tended to the mass of delicate white feathers. She had been kind, knowledgeable, and appropriately reverent (considering she was but an earth-bound human), even if all she had learned had come from rearing a simple bird.

Yet it was not the same.

Not the same as a touch that _knew_ the itch of shedding, the annoyance of twisted feathers, the pain of a strained wing. It wasn’t the same as feeling long, elegant fingers slowly lace themselves between feather vanes, and lull her into a lazy and languorous warmth...because that touch knew her feathers, knew _her_. Knew her wings as much as--

Kayle shuddered and inhaled sharply, wings stretching and then snapping closed in self-vexation.

Curse her. Curse Morgana. Even fallen a world away from the war and their people, she still tainted Kayle’s thoughts with her corruption.

She probably smirked even now, knowing that she could affect Kayle so, just as she had taunted.

Her short-cut nails dug into her palms, and Kayle had to focus to unclench them, to not give her sister precisely what she wanted out of Kayle. She would go to sleep now, sleep soundly and well, and continue the pursuit of her divine purpose tomorrow in the bright and clean sunlight.

Kayle laid stomach down on the fresh linens of her bed, smooth, silky sheets deliciously cool against her all too hot skin. Her wings unfurled to easily droop over her, damp feathers continuing to dry off in the night air.

Cheek pressed to her pillow and eyes shut, Kayle willed herself to sleep, willed her thoughts to quiet into slumber. And yet her back twitched and her mind ever circled to the Fallen, to that thrice damned _smug_ gaze, always, _always_ so knowing, as if confident in the upper hand over the war. Over Kayle.

A low sound of irritation escaped from Kayle’s throat, mirroring the growing and discomforting heat that had settled in her pelvis. She shifted, turning her head to rest on her other cheek, but if anything the small movements made everything worse.

Her fingers dug into the mattress, and she could not help but wish they were digging into something else. Unbidden, images and memories alike flashed to the forefront of her senses, and a shiver ran down her spine. Morgana next to her, against her body, pressed beneath her, looming over her. Morgana with her mouth caught open, robbed of words for once. Morgana laughing at her, cruel, poisonous, _as if she knew better_.

Kayle slammed a fist into her pillow, breath suddenly coming in hard, shallow gasps.

Need continued to tug at her low abdomen, refusing to abate on its own and just be ignored. Just as always. A nuisance. A problem. Just like _her_. Just like that woman.

Kayle growled again as Morgana continued to circle the foremost of her thoughts. Fingers ghosting along her jaw, breath puffing hot down the curved muscle of her back and wings, creeping toward her thighs, ever tantalizing.

“Hngh.” Kayle muffled into her pillow, sullenly angry at the insistent thrum the night brought to her blood. It was a lapse, a shortcoming, one that Morgana would cackle to think herself the source of. As if Kayle were that weak, to bend knee and fortitude for her.

It would hardly be that way.

Her hand released the brutalized sheets and shifted under her stomach, skin now radiating heat beneath her touch.

She closed her eyes, daring to let the darkness paint out the thoughts that were but whispered in her mind’s eye during daylight. Morgana...finally taken to hand, bound and chained, head hung in clear defeat...and Kayle to bring her to reign, to finally administer justice.

Yes, Kayle would take her task, just as Morgana anticipated, as she secretly wanted.

Kayle’s fingers slowly inched south, across the just of her own hip, down to the blonde curls between her legs.

She imagined Morgana, kneeling before her as Kayle stood over her. She imagined fisting one hand in that dark tangle of hair, directing that wicked mouth to her thighs.

Kayle trembled at the first hot and slickened touch against herself. Her breath hissed through her teeth, and she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, images drawn to life on the back of her eyelids.

Morgana would work...how she would work to please Kayle, to demonstrate her penitence and desire for forgiveness, her silver tongue now silenced and put to infinitely better use. She would moan, a wordless plea for approval. Kayle groaned thinking of it, starting to move her fingers in clear, sure strokes.

She would hardly let Morgana have it that easy, think that justice could be so readily served. She’d yank her head back, perhaps, growl the warning that she had better think again if that was best she could offer. Mercy could only be given within reason, of course. The desire to repent had to be sincere.

But Kayle was not unreasonable. She would give her sister the chance to prove her worth. If Morgana was particularly earnest, maybe Kayle would even touch her as reward for bit, urge her on. But not to the point of release, no.

She hadn’t earned that yet.

Kayle bit down on her lower lip, edging closer.

Or perhaps...perhaps she would push Morgana onto her back, wings pinned under her and able to only feebly flap, and then lower her thighs down to that overly smug face. Have her submit in every sense of the word. Wipe even the hint of a smile and retort from the serpent’s tongue as she gripped those dark tresses in both hands and rocked into it. Morgana would be desperate to give her every last bit of pleasure to put her over, and Kayle would take all of it, and more. Make her work to match Kayle’s standards, to satisfy her, to garner her approval and mercy alike.

She could practically feel that eager mouth against her, hot and wet as Kayle raked her nails across Morgana’s scalp, moaning into her even as Kayle groaned back. Morgana would be good for her, would finally acknowledge and submit and do every last thing that--

Kayle arched into herself, shaking and sucking in a wordless breath as she came, all the restless tension that had haunted her through the day finally, _finally_ , draining out of her. She pulled her hand out from under her, absentmindedly wiping it on the sheets, eyes already drifting shut with exhaustion.

She felt sated and relieved, so sharp and encompassing that it readily outweighed the ever present resentment and sense of discomfiture over it all.

A yawn escaped her before sleep at last began to claim her in its dreamless embrace, her final thoughts on the ever-present awareness of her other self, leagues and leagues away across Valoran. She grumbled unintelligibly.

It was all Morgana’s fault anyway.

Always her fault.

 


End file.
